Finding the Fire
by AlatarielFelagund
Summary: It's been two years since Sherlock faked his death and he's been running all over England with his old colleague, Rosalyn Lestrade. She's pushing him to the edge and he realizes he has to come clean. Will things ever be the same with what he's done?


Chapter 1:

Rosalyn-

"No," I say not even bothering to look up from my computer as I sit on the floor. Sherlock paces the small room. "Sherlock, I will not keep moving around because you're too chicken to just see John," I explain. Sherlock pauses and looks down at me. I finally look up. "For the past two years I've been following you because you've needed someone there as company as you go all over England. I've had to put my life on hold and lose all contact with everyone and for what? To pick up and move again?"

"What do you want in return then?" Sherlock asks with a sigh. I set the laptop aside and stand slowly.

"Do you mean to tell me that for the past two years I've spent every minute possible with you and you still don't know what I would like in return?" I ask with a stiff laugh. Sherlock slowly takes my hand.

"Rosalyn, some days it's like a still barely know you. America changed you. Would you like to see your brother again? I don't know," Sherlock asks. I look away at the slow and silent snow falling and then back at him.

"It'd be nice to see him, but no, I would rather you tell me why you chose me and to hear you say that you feel something and not nothing at all," I say. "I'm going to bed. Think about seeing John though. If you keep waiting it'll be too late." Sherlock grabs my arm. "Sherlock, just think through it all."

Anderson-

Anderson sat in the dark room staring at the screen. "No, Greg, I'm not done yet," he said quietly.

"You're chasing ghosts," Lestrade repeated. "My sister left because that's just what she does. It has nothing to do with Sherlock. He's gone." Anderson just sighed.

"I'm searching for two things and they're both connected," Anderson fought.

"Listen to yourself. She never loved you. He threw himself off a building. If she left because of Sherlock it would be because they were close. What's happened to you?"

"I am determined. You and I both know he'd fake his death and she's got enough clearance to make it happen with ease," Anderson said and ended the call. Lestrade's words lingered. So Rosalyn never did feel anything for Anderson. He wasn't surprised. He closed his eyes and fought back the tears. She was a whirlwind and Anderson got caught in her storm.

Sherlock-

I stay in the small main room to the hotel room and listen as Rosalyn quietly slips into bed. I don't even know why she has to act like this. She knows me. Why does she act like she doesn't? She drives me insane but I can't live without her still. It's the one really good thing that ever came from working with Lestrade. During one case when Anderson was sick they had to call Rosalyn in and we just got along from the start.

I sit down on the couch and think. Maybe it's time to see John. Maybe she's right, like always. She's also right that I feel something. That's been the worst part of the past few years. So long I've fought what I've felt and now, now I find myself actually feeling something and I can't stop myself. I stand and walk to the bedroom door. I look to the window and see the snow falling. I know what I can do. I grab my coat and start walking out, trying not to wake her.

Greg-

He couldn't think of Sherlock being alive and Rosalyn being with him. She was always outside the rest of society, but to spend two years with a man who cares for none but himself, Greg couldn't think about it. It was a bit too much for him. He knew she felt something for him, but he couldn't see her hurt. Then again, what she did was out of his control. Greg couldn't keep protecting her. She was too strong headed and no one was going to change that.

He looked at the clock. It was about time he got some sleep. He could worry about Rosalyn tomorrow. Besides, who knew, maybe she'd call for once. It was close to the holidays. Sherlock didn't have to be given any thought. Greg was satisfied with what happened and that was the end of it, no matter what Anderson thought or said.

John-

Mary sleeps next to me. I stare up at the ceiling, Sherlock stuck on my mind for the hundredth time. I've almost moved on, but a part of me can't let go. I've moved thinking it would help but it made it worse. What's wrong with me? I can't seem to figure it out anymore. Nothing makes sense and hasn't in years. At times like this I just sit and wonder what life would be like if Sherlock were still here. Then I realize that maybe nothing would have worked between me and Mary. Maybe what happened happened for a reason.

Rosalyn-

"Anderson what the hell are you doing here and the hell did you find me?" I question. The forensic scientist stands in the room staring at me. He's grown a beard and I can barely recognize him.

"I'm here for a few reasons, Rosalyn," Anderson says. He seems almost impatient. I don't know where Sherlock is, but I'm glad he's not here at the moment.

"If you're here for me, then leave," I tell him. He just looks at me.

"I left my wife, you know, I left her for you. I left her because I love you," Anderson begins to plead. I open my mouth, but the door behind him opens. Sherlock, covered in a dusting of snow, walks in.

"Oh damn, Anderson, why the hell are you here?" Sherlock asks as he shuts the door behind him. Anderson turns around.

"I knew it!" Anderson exclaims. "I knew you were alive!" he starts laughing and I take a step back. Sherlock takes off his coat and sets it on a chair.

"Yes, well, now you can leave. You see, Rosalyn is mine and no one will ever take her from me," Sherlock says, ushering to the door. I just stare at Sherlock who walks straight over to me. I think Anderson and I are both in shock.

"Oh sure, like the sociopath feels anything," Anderson mocks. Sherlock just smiles over at him and then at me. He takes me by the arm and pulls me in. He plants his lips against mine, warm yet chilled from the cold outside, wet from the snow that melts. His hand slips down my back as he pulls back. My fingers, shaking, go to my lips. Anderson just stares flabbergasted at Sherlock.

"I just choose not to feel anything," Sherlock says.

"You didn't actually just do that," Anderson stammers. Sherlock just laughs. I just stand there quietly, wondering if that really just happened.

"I think he just did," I whisper. "Anderson, you should leave now. Believe it or not but I actually care about your feelings so I'd leave." Anderson hesitantly walks to the door.

"Mark my words, Sherlock, you being hiding will destroy you more than things already are," Anderson warns as he leaves.

**A/N: I think I'm really going to love this one. Please review!**


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